


Steadfast as Thou Art

by SylvanWitch



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU after HBP, Angst, M/M, War!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steadfast as Thou Art

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in April 2007 to fill a prompt on LJ. The prompter asked for Snarry and "meteor shower." The title is from Keats' "Bright Star."

The night the sky fell, it was cold.  Their breath made fantastic shapes in the frigid air, arabesques of steam rising to meet the shattered light scattering its cold fire on their uncovered heads.

 

They might have been the only two left in the world.

 

They were certainly the only two left alive on that field churned to brackish red mud, invisible except for the stench now in the dark of the new moon.

 

Even the plummeting fire could not illuminate what was left of them.

 

The scarecrow, robes ragged around his skeletal arms, stood shakily from the crouch he’d fallen into after the last spell-blast, and looked into the face of his savior.

 

Potter glared back, the flare of a falling star making twin moons of his glasses, hair a darker midnight in that faint and fleeting light.

 

When the boy reached out, Snape could not tell whether his hand held a wand or no, but he did not flinch, did not indicate that he saw anything but a deserved fate coming finally for him.

 

“Let’s go,” the boy— _man, by the breadth of his shoulders_ , Snape thought—ordered, and Snape, so long used to taking orders, fell into faltering step behind him.

 

It was hard going over the broken ground.  Snape stumbled over an outflung arm, and Potter steadied him with a Quidditch-quick hand, snatching his elbow, guiding him over the corpse of a Death Eater, white mask like a dimming wreck, what was left of the star upon which he had fastened his fate.

 

“Thought you were dead,” Potter ventured eventually, as they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the dubious safety it offered.  At least the ground was more even, and there were fewer bodies to impede their weary progress.

 

Snape said nothing.  He could not tell whether Potter had intended hope or disappointment.

 

“The others will be glad to see you,” he said, reiterate and suddenly shy.

 

Snape stopped, ostensibly to rest against the wide bole of an ancient tree, but he had done no more than lean back when Potter was standing close enough that he could feel the young man’s exhaled breath against his neck.

 

“I’m not,” Snape said, feeling the heat of him through what was left of his robes.

 

A wet tongue traced fire up his neck, and Snape swallowed a moan, throwing his head back hard enough to thunk against the supportive trunk.  He saw a star streaming its long tail across the sky, felt its headlong plunge down the length of him, until its fire blossomed in his core and he gasped, helpless against the hand that was tracing the outline of his erection.

 

“St-stop,” he tried, but the other pressed on, deft fingers finding ready flesh where only fear had lived for so long.

 

“Harry,” he said, finally, the name unfamiliar on his chafed lips.

 

“Let me,” was all the young man said, callused hands stroking sure until Snape had to close his eyes, back arching, hips juddering wildly, lips spilling pleasure like a new prophecy into the night air as suicidal stars traced their dying words against the dark.

 

When it was done, Snape opened his eyes to see Harry’s close up, to see the green fire of reflected meteors tracing their descent down his face with the tears.

 

With a shaking hand, Snape wiped away the trails, even as Harry’s hands removed the evidence of Snape’s own fall.

 

“Let me,” the older man echoed, seeing his destruction even as he felt the earth beneath his knees and the promise of a new universe in the burst of hot seed at the back of his throat.

 

Some sun would rise tomorrow.  Tonight, at world’s end, they clung to what was left of the dark.


End file.
